


In Darkness, I Heard Your Voice

by velvetnoire



Category: Witch's Heart (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Character, Blindness, Friendship, Gen, Vivid descriptions of monsters, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetnoire/pseuds/velvetnoire
Summary: But the abyssal black is consuming Claire slowly, eating up the faces of all that she had ever known.Oh, Sirius. Is it remorse like this that drowns him, frightening as the shadows that threaten to swallow her up?





	In Darkness, I Heard Your Voice

**Claire’s Side**

Learning to live again comes slowly.

 Claire had never imagined what it had been to live in eternal night, the memory of the sunlit sky fading from her mind no matter the tenacity of her grip. The terror that grips her is as vise-like as the guilt that holds Sirius in its iron shackles, cloaking him in an all-consuming despair. It had not been long since the “incident,” as Sirius would call it with a shadowed expression. Stubborn Sirius has been moping in his room, she knows, since he hadn't come to breakfast that morning.

But the abyssal black is consuming her slowly, eating up the faces of all that she had ever known. She shoves away despair to spite it, occupying herself by listening to the voices of others. But Sirius has been avoiding her. Is it remorse that drowns him, frightening as the shadows that threaten to swallow her up?

It’s frustrating, this avoidance, but she knows that he needs time to sort his thoughts out. It’s frustrating, the way donning a dress becomes more of a fumble than anything - the rush of fabric and habitual motion are clumsier than ever. Luckily, Zizel is there to call out hints - probably because she can’t bear watching her fumble for much longer, judging by her quiet sighs. It just wouldn't do if her pact partner died before finding the contract, after all, even if it was out of sheer annoyance.

During the day Zizel’s hands phase through like whispers of air - therefore, the reliance on verbal cues. Claire doesn't mind Zizel’s voice, though. The languid elegance of her quiet words is practiced and often amused. Really, anything but the silence was music to her ears...

 _Why weren't you there?_ Claire asks, desperation in her voice for even the possibility of another outcome. _Why couldn't you save me,_ is what she wants to say, but of course Zizel is not her friend but a demon. A demon who hardly interferes but instead delights in despair, taking to the shadows more than light.

Even so, there is something almost like regret in Zizel’s usually steady voice, even if it was only for the fact that another had bested her. _Bound by the laws of demons, I could not interfere. It was Lime’s turn this time, not mine._

(Lime. She remembers Lime: acrid smoke and sparking cinders accompanied by bittersweet citrus. Madness was laid thick in her voice, shaking with anticipation. She remembers her laughing, echoing and echoing in the fantasy space around them. Claire remembers a hand at her neck and a whisper in her ear, and oh, how her strength could not save her. So Sirius had done so instead, even if he was shaking in his shoes. He did it, for her.)

There's no going back now, really, and Claire’s not the kind of person to hold grudges. This had been her decision, after all, so there was no one to blame but herself. It's the closest to an apology that's she’s going to get, so she sighs and embraces forgiveness. It holds the scent of soothing lavender and warm Earl Grey, drifting through the air.

So the world becomes louder, but only because sight is a sense lost to her. It is only because she _listens_ , straining her ears to identify footfalls by sound. It’s so she can call out a name in darkness and smile as the person turns, surprised at her startling accuracy - even if she does make a few mistakes in the process. It was almost like a game to her - a game she loved to win.

 She learns that the world is hardly ever silent through the creak of hinges left unoiled for far too long, doors opening and clicking shut. She learns this from the scent of warm sugar wafting from the kitchen that Ashe has yet again baked another batch of cookies, enticing her with its sweet scent - but no, there is still something for her to do, first.

She listens to the turning of pages behind Sirius’s door, pressing the shell of her ear against the cool wood. The sigil is humming gently at the other side, warm beneath her skin. As usual, her curiosity wins over the fear of being discovered.

 “...my fault...not only have I failed her, but Lady Dorothy as well…”

“....wasn't supposed to end up this way…” 

“...foolish...should have saved herself.”

“...you would have done the same for her.”

She hears Noel’s voice: gentle yet firm when needed, polite yet unyielding when push came to shove. She notes that it is often laced with an undertone of regret.

Yes, Claire can tell that Noel is right. Sirius, for all his cowardice, had been brave for her once - and he'd do it again, denying it was for her all the way. He would use the excuse that it was for Lady Dorothy’s sake, becoming flustered when his motive was questioned. And perhaps it had been for Lady Dorothy - but in that moment, it had been for Claire.

That desire had been to save a girl who thought everyone loved her funny faces and was easily placated with a kaleidoscope. It was to save a girl who was far braver and far stronger than him, with a heart that beat for others’ smiles.

“...indeed. Well, we’ll have to come up with a system, then…” 

Sirius’s voice is usually haughty, and more often than not tinged an edge of scorn. Typically, though, it's mellow and melodic - playful, even, when he’s about to issue punishments like cleaning the storeroom or flinging people out of windows. Really, if Claire hadn’t known him, she would have suspected he was a sadist. But she knew that Sirius just had a temper like a lit fuse - quickly ignited and extinguished just as quickly, seemingly volatile but ending up merciful (against his better judgement.)

Nowadays, nights aren't quite the same as her meandering strolls, kicking monsters to oblivion and fulfilling demon requests to while the time alway. Judging by the scent of rotting flesh and the concentration of chilling aura, she can sense the general direction of the monsters and let loose. It’s a good stress reliever for pent-up frustration, if nothing else.

Even though she has to know these halls by heart, now (she'd only tripped up the stairs four times, alright?!), she’s no invalid. It's only for her safety that she has someone to accompany her as they rotate shifts depending on the day. Okay, maybe a little help couldn't hurt now and then, especially at night when demons roamed freely through the cobwebbed corridors.

  

Sometimes, she’s paired up with Ashe, smelling as sugary as the confections he likes to craft. The scent is strong enough to make her wonder - what smell would he be trying to hide beneath? But she doesn't pry, instead glad for the company.

His voice is bright as the sound of wind chimes and twice as chipper. His singsong cheer drowns her doubts in the darkness, warding away her fear - if only temporarily.

“Ah, Miss Claire! Mind your step...there’s a monster, five o’clock!”

 She was fine. Perfectly capable, she snapped, the tone of her voice surprising even to her. Oh, no - what was this person she was turning into? Of course she apologized, but she didn't miss the falter in Ashe’s voice, a fraction more hesitant through the waxing night.

She apologizes to him again, later, that she was sorry for taking her anger out on him. She had been under a great amount of stress lately, after all. Ashe smiles and forgives her, beaming bright.

  

Wilardo’s voice is low, a drawl wry with good humor and hardly ever loud. Claire can always feel the tension in the air the moment before he pulls the trigger when a monster draws too close.

“Watch out next time.”

 They make a good team: one of them ranged and the other close-quarters. They cover each other’s weaknesses, trusting the other's judgement.

Wilardo seems to understand this sort of helplessness, giving her space but also a watchful eye. Claire can tell by his scent that he’s nearby - lilies hinted with gunpowder and wine is what she smells from him, an odd yet soothing combination.

  

Noel frets the most, no matter how much he tries to hide it. He hovers nearby with the scent of rain and parchment paper, spilled ink tinged with iron. Claire can hear the sound of metal being unsheathed and sense the sinister aura nearby dissipating into nothingness. The monster had been too close, she knew, but she could have thrown herself into practiced motion, reducing the monster to dust with a well-placed kick.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” he warns the monsters, quiet yet all the more dangerous. It’s definitely sweet, really - how protective he is over her wellbeing - but she reminds him that she wants to protect him, too.

Noel smiles, finally understanding. With that, they clear the night corridors together, chatting all the way.

   
Of course, Sirius isn’t the strongest by far. He slaps paper talismans on monsters before dashing away and repeating the action. It certainly works, yes, and it makes the monster temporarily back away as well. Luckily, Claire is there to finish demons off for him. He can also provide temporary shelters, like that one time where he slapped a talisman under a table and she hid beneath.

 It’s fascinating to hear the crackle of magic, humming like electricity from Sirius’ pockets. It makes Sirius smell like that, something difficult to describe. His scent is also accented with lavender and mint - something herbal, surely, like the medicine he said he could make. His clothes give the scent of smoke into the air as well, probably from the candles at night he'd use for a late-night reading.

  _Oh, Sirius. What are you thinking, now?_ Claire couldn't help but wonder.

_Don’t mope too long, okay? It’s not your fault. Don’t make me break into your study and make funny faces at you!_

   
**Sirius’ Side**

It’s nice, for her to take his hand in hers like when they were children - not that he would admit it aloud.

He had been frightened by a nightmare, and was unwilling to confront Lady Dorothy about it - seeing as it was past midnight, after all. Claire had decided to conduct an investigation to battle it out with the monster that had appeared in his dreams, dragging him by the hand.

Claire seemed almost disappointed that there was no battles to be fought, but was glad that she was able to bring him a sense of comfort. Their investigation let him know that there really wasn't any monsters there, and if there were? Well, Claire would beat them to oblivion. So, he had nothing to worry about. 

Claire’s hand had been soft and warm, her grip firm and reassuring on his cold and clammy one. Her eyes had been bright as a sunny day, sparkling with excitement as their flashlights had swept through the dark hallways and creaking corridors, Sirius trusting her to protect him.

 “Claire, why must you insist on protecting me? Take care of yourself.” Sirius couldn't help but comment as they had wound around yet another corner, one hand clutching the other’s.

“You’re my friend, silly! Of course, don't you worry about me!” Claire had giggled, puffing up with self-assuredness.

She was no damsel in distress. If anything, the term would be more often applied to him, irritatingly enough.

He could clearly recall another incident where he required saving - one that was quite recent indeed.

 

He remembers the monster, a gelatinous, sickening marsh green and towering above the both of them, its comrades scuttling about the floor. He can clearly recall its ghastly roar echoing through the corridor and wondering why no-one else had roused from sleep at the sound. Perhaps several halls away had been too far for the sound to reach them.

 He had been smacking down radiant blue talismans left and right on the small ones, dancing back as the monsters sizzled from the impact. He’d been distracted by the small fry, wandering far too close to the largest monster before Claire had shouted a warning a moment too late.

The shadow had towered over him like a tidal wave, moments away from crashing down upon him and drowning him in its fathomless depths. But no - Claire had shoved him out of the way.

The sound of sickening impact had him dazed - stunned at the events that had transpired within seconds. His voice was hoarse from the emotion welling up in him - no, no, Claire was strong, she was alright, so why wasn’t she getting up? 

 _You fool...Save yourself before saving me. Why must you insist on being the hero_?

The monsters were laughing, he was sure of it - circling and circling him, delighting in his despair. They smelled like rot and ruin, rust and the tang of iron and blood. Disgusting, the lot of them...laying a hand on Claire...

_I can’t bear to see you like this, sprawled vulnerable and silent. Please, wake up. Please…_

If not for Noel’s intervention, they would have likely died that night.

 

***  
Claire’s Side (several days ago)**

“Hey, are the lights off? Why is it so dark? Where am I?”

Claire awoke to indistinct figures - one above, and others further back. She attempted to sit up, but was struck by a spell of nausea. She eased back into the bed instead, letting out a groan, and she winced at her aching body. Her wounds stung at even the most minuscule movements she made, and her eyes widened at the bandages wrapped around her. 

Fuzzy colors were indistinct in the darkness that had overtaken her vision; her questions buzzed on her tongue, confusion simmering through an indistinct grogginess that refused to leave.

“You’re in Sirius’s room, Miss Claire! It was the closest we were willing to transport you, as we didn't want to worsen your injuries. Are you alright? The encounter last night sounded truly frightening! I’m so glad you’re alive….”

Ashe rambled on and on, smelling oddly like antiseptic and latex gloves from above her. Claire remembered the medical books in his bag and the scalpels up his sleeves, so it wouldn't be too far fetched to assume he was a doctor, of sorts.

“...the lights are on, Miss Claire. Are you alright?”

“Come on, Ashe! You're kidding, right? It’s so dark in here!”

Desperation laced her voice, shaky laughter and denial. No, no, no, it couldn't be. This couldn't be happening to her.

“I’m afraid, Miss Claire, that your optic nerves have been damaged from the head trauma you suffered at the back of your head. It’s not your eyes at fault, but your brain that controls your sight.”

Claire felt dizzy, the words rushing by her in a mess of jargon she couldn't and didn't want to understand. Not now and not ever, when this emotion welled up in her. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Claire. The damage is too severe. There is no other way to say it...Miss Claire, you are cortically blind.”

That night, Claire’s world came crashing down. That night was the first time any of them had seen her break down in tears, her sobs unending for the longest time.

It wasn't something they ever wanted to see again.

 

**Sirius’ Side (present)**

The door creaked open, and the silence was...stilted, to say the least. To occupy his mind he had drawn talisman after talisman, the papers scattered all about his desk in an unusual disarray. Oh, how he had failed Claire as a friend. He couldn't bear to confront her, but now..she was here, right in front of him.

The words caught in his throat as he stood, walking from around the desk.

Claire launched herself at him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“W-w-what is this?” He couldn’t help but flush in embarrassment, but the hug was certainly something they both needed. It was something like forgiveness in that embrace, grief and guilt and sorrow intermixed in the warmth.

“A hug, silly! You looked like you needed one. Do I have to use my funny faces on you?”

“....Thank you, Claire. And no, please refrain from doing so.”

Post-embrace, Sirius let out a sigh. There were things that he needed to say before the guilt consumed him. He couldn’t look Claire in the eye, his sight skittering to her shoes.

“I am sorry, Claire. I must apologize that I am not as physically strong as you. I am sorry for my carelessness. I am sorry you had to save me again,” his voice was tremulous with emotion with every apology that fell from his lips, falling into a shaky whisper before steadying once more.

“Thank you for saving me. Thank you, for exchanging your place with me without even thinking, but please, do not ever sacrifice yourself for me again,” his eyes closed, the image flashing before him before he shook his head to clear it away.

“I couldn't bear seeing you like that another time.”

 _I’m sorry_ , Sirius thought through a throat thick with emotion and stinging eyes _, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry._

“Hey,” Claire’s voice was almost uncertain as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry about it too much, okay? I saw you, and I saw that monster and my body moved without thinking.”

Claire smiled gently, which was far more than he thought he deserved. “I was the one who traded places with you. Don’t ever think it’s your fault. We all make mistakes, okay? What's done is done.”

Sirius finds a hand in his hair, ruffling lavender locks with unbridled amusement and he grumbles his protest.

“Don’t apologize for your body’s capabilities. We all have our own strengths, and I can help you if you want to get physically stronger,” Claire said as she removed the offending hand from his person (namely, his well-groomed hair) with a little laugh that lightened his mood, if only a fraction.

“You’re pretty good at strategy and finding weaknesses. That’s your strength, and I you can keep working at it, you can be pretty strong in your own way!”

How could she be so kind to him? How could she forgive him? Truly...perhaps Claire may have been foolish, yes, but it was because of that unending kindness. Truly, she was the nicest and strongest person he had ever met.

Excluding Lady Dorothy, of course. Was she smiling upon them, wherever she was? Oh, he could not wait for her return!

They would smile together and share pumpkin pies, their favorite! They’d laugh and Claire would make funny faces all the while, amusing Lady Dorothy with her antics and making him sigh. He couldn't suppress a smile at the sight. Perhaps Noel would join in, shy and standing at the sidelines before Claire would bounce up to him, beaming. She would make another funny face at him and he couldn't help but chuckle at such an expression.

Together, they would be so _happy._

**  
Claire’s Side**

Like her sight, colors have faded from her dreams, leaving her to wander in a sea of darkness. But recently, that has started to change.

In her dreams she can taste the first bites of a freshly-baked cookie and smell the scent of smoke and rain. The scent of lilies and gunpowder leads her to voices and laughter, sugar and warmth wafting through a room.

There are many things she has learned in the past few days.

The greatest lesson she had learned? Well, it was rather simple: She had learned that she was never alone.

With them, the darkness didn't seem as frightening. If they stuck side by side, perhaps they could conquer anything.

 

 


End file.
